After writing the title for this blog, I stared at it for quite some time. Who I was referring to when I questioned “Beginning or Ending?” Did I mean us parents, or our children? Was it a “big picture” question about life in general or a smaller, specific question about our individual family constellations?
“The concept of childhood, so vital to the traditional American way of life, is threatened with extinction in the society we have created. Today’s child has become the unwilling victim of overwhelming stress—the stress borne of rapid, bewildering social change and constantly rising expectations.”
The best advice I ever received as a father came in 1994 from an 8-year-old girl before I even had kids. My wife and I were having dinner at our friends’ home in Palo Alto—a married couple, both of whom were hard-driving, ambitious executives who regularly worked long hours, and their two delightfully candid elementary school-aged kids. As the conversation turned to work, Carol, the 8-year-old, blurted out, “My parents work all the time.”
On paper, Castilleja is not so different from other schools. There are other private schools, even all-girl schools, that can claim the same benefits and advantages that Casti can. At least, I used to think this was the case. A few weeks ago, I discussed the practice of Senior Talks with a friend from a different school. Her school is much like Castilleja – small, all –girls, but located in a different state. They also have senior talks, where seniors speak about an important experience or idea that they want to convey to their peers, in a speech that is often moving and deeply personal. However, at my friend’s school, the best senior talks get voted on in a competition to win scholarship money. At Castilleja, the only prize you get for a senior talk or 8th grade speech is flowers …
What’s the most important determinant of students’ growth in college? According to Nancy Sommers, a researcher at Harvard, it’s not feedback or carefully designed assignments or skill acquisition, though these are central. These aspects of learning, Sommers finds, are overshadowed by another, less obvious but more important: students’ attitude. Specifically, a shift in attitude, away from evaluative and instrumental views of education (e.g, “I complete school work to get a grade, or because I need a degree to get a job,”) and toward a sense of purpose and connection.
In Cupertino, California, Hung Wei, a mother and local school board member, has worked passionately for almost a decade to improve the mental health of Asian American students. Throughout the school year, she gathers her teen staff members from Monta Vista High, a campus with a mostly Asian American student body, to produce Verdadera, a school publication that Wei founded. Verdadera, which means “truthfully” in Spanish, is devoted to honest expression and mental health. In every issue, students write about matters closest to their hearts: love, secrets, dances, body image, sexual identity, relationships with parents, and also intense academic pressures, competition, loneliness, depression and fears for the future.
The Washington Post ranking of US high schools has just been released and, as you can imagine, parents around the country are either congratulating themselves on the great choice they made or having an anxiety attack because their child’s school didn’t make the cut. While we could argue about the methodology used, we mostly want to convey that school choice should be about where your child fits and can succeed as much as anything else. We thought hearing from high school counselor and CS board member Lisa Spengler on how she helps her students choose a high school would help provide some perspective on an alternative way to think about high school choice.
I hate homework. I hate reminding my kids to do their homework. I hate reviewing their homework. And most of all, I hate helping them with their homework. So I don’t. I don’t help them with it. I tell them to do it, but I don’t really care if they do or not. They don’t know that. They think I want them to do it. But they’ve just had a long day at school – longer than my school days ever were – and there is usually at least one after-school activity for some of them (ballet, karate, Hebrew lesson, occupational therapy, soccer practice). By the time they’re home it’s after 5pm, or even after 7pm. They’ve scarfed down snacks in the car, and been told where to be, what to do, and how to do it since 8.30am or earlier. So really, does it matter to me if they do a page of long division or translate 20 Spanish words at 8pm? No. I’ve never told them how I feel about them doing – or rather, not doing – the …
Since Teach Your Children Well came out in the summer of 2012, I have been on a perpetual book tour. I have spoken in many of the wealthiest enclaves in this country but I have also spoken to parents who are squarely middle or working class. I have been to the most prestigious independent and public schools as well as those that range from the notable to the unexceptional. I have spoken to top-level executives from Google and Microsoft, American Express and Morgan Stanley. I have also spoken to the boots on the ground people who work for these companies. I’ve been to Austin Texas, but also Midland Texas. To the Upper East Side of New York, the North Shore of Chicago and Beverly Hills as well as Knoxville, Nashville and Memphis. I’ve crisscrossed the country speaking to parents, teachers, administrators, professors, business executives, regular folks and billionaires.
I recently returned from visiting my older daughter, who works in Dallas. After a lovely day visiting some old friends, her office complex and the JFK museum, we headed out to dinner. Since we were treating, my daughter picked a highly regarded restaurant known for its casual atmosphere and fabulous food. We felt she had made a great choice from the minute we walked in. The waiter was in top form and the menu had plenty of options for the meat and veggie lovers among us. As is our family rule, phone ringers were turned off and devices were stored, after my daughter sent a quick to text her boyfriend that she would be out of commission for the next couple of hours. About 15 minutes after sitting down, she said “Mom, the family at the next table hasn’t spoken to each other AT ALL since we walked in.” That didn’t sound like it could be right, but now I was curious so I tried to subtly sneak a peek at what was happening “next door”…
As those of us with Lego-obsessed children know, a Lego set is a double-edged invitation. You can create an awesome replica of a familiar story or film scene with easy-to-follow instructions, and you can use the bricks to build, well, whatever you want, however weird, useless, or oddly juxtaposed the result (Cinderella trapped with Darth Vader in a castle that is part Hogwarts, part Death Star, and part Little Friends Dolphin Cruise Ship? Sure why not). I know families who put the instructions-based final product up on a shelf (the only way to preserve it, short of crazy glue). Otherwise, those elaborate final products smash as soon as a child grabs them in anticipation of play. The smashing, we have to think, is part of the design. The Lego Movie takes this double-edged-ness to a question at the heart of…
Massive cheating in school, kids at the nation’s best schools who can’t string two sentences together in an interview, helicopter parents editing (or writing entirely) papers for kids at Ivy League colleges and then asking to come to their kid’s first job performance review! As education researchers, we feel like we have seen it all during the last few years. Despite some horror stories, we are encouraged because the conversation is starting to change.